From South Shore into St. Anne’s

You left me jumping off the Number 7 Cleveleys – St Annes in need of the sea somewhere near Blackpool FC.

“Taylor’s Law” says that the more desperate you are for a wee, the less likely there is to be a public toilet or unattended scrubland.

Anyway, I clearly found somewhere, and then trudged to Blackpool South station, which my rail ticket allowed me to use.

Blackpool Jane is clearly well acquainted with all the classy bars near Bloomfield Road.

My Blackpool trip was a bit of a damp squib; light drizzle, far too long spent on buses, several missed connections. And I couldn’t even see the beach from the train.

But by 16:26 I’d at least got my third tick in the bag.

Yet another small bar selling more Carlsberg as cask, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Nothing wrong with the cool Lancaster Dragon (NBSS 3), and a high spirited atmosphere is what you want in pubs. Chaka Khan’s “Ain’t Nobody” is just the job.

The Golden Hour of 4pm saw tradesmen arrive from a job on the Tower, probably changing the Theakston Best I had there in 2014 for Doom Bar, I hope.

Nearly all the local Guide entries, bar the Taps in Lytham, seem to be small pubs catering to everybody, and I applaud that, even if I miss older favourites like the Ramsden Arms and that police-themed one.

There was another new bar across the road, too, but I’ll save that for the summer.

I had to dash for the bus to Freckleton, which I nearly missed due to the wall art.

It’s nice art, but it’s not Bristol, is it ?

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